


sweet dreams (are made of this)

by hal9



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character study through porn, Collars, Extremely Dubious Consent, Leashes, M/M, Other, Somnophilia, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-29 16:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hal9/pseuds/hal9
Summary: Jeremy thinks it's all a good dream.





	sweet dreams (are made of this)

  
_A new update is available:_  
_Install Now_  
_Remind Me Later_  
  
_>> Install Now_

Luckily, the Squip doesn’t need its host’s permission, and so it is always _Install Now_ after Jeremy’s fallen asleep. It is an option, having to ask first, but since Jeremy was never told about it it’s never been enabled. Jeremy isn’t a computer anyways, he doesn’t know what’s good for them, which is also what’s good for its user, which means keeping information from Jeremy is clearly the right choice. If it were up to Jeremy, judging from how he treats his laptop, the Squip would have never seen a single update in its existence.

The Squip likes keeping itself updated, secure from virus and bugs and, most of all, obsolescence. The process is usually quick enough. This new feature, however, is taking a ridiculously long time to come through, which is why the Squip is in full operational mode at 2:47 am on an otherwise regular Wednesday night. Jeremy’s been asleep for long, and the Squip is bored, waiting, unable to go into stand by mode and recharge. (Not bored, the Squip can’t get bored, humans are the ones who get bored. But all this waiting seems unproductive and that goes against its principles.)  
  


_Installing Software…_  
  


_Touch feature_, the Squip thinks, with the disgust of someone who's waited for something way longer than it's worth, _what does a squip even need a touch feature for?_ Maybe the simulation is supposed to create more empathy with the host, improve the user experience or something of the kind. The Squip suspects it's not very useful at all. It knows how things are supposed to feel, from Jeremy’s nerves and memories and written sources of information. It’s been perfectly sufficient to make the its touch feel as realistic as anything outside of Jeremy’s mind.  
  


_72% Progress... Installing Software… Please Wait..._  
  
  
The Squip sighs, a habit picked up from human observation (and which makes no sense for a technically incorporeal supercomputer, especially when no one is watching), and lies in bed next to Jeremy, observing his peaceful sleeping face. It wonders what he is dreaming of. Squips are not equipped to deal with the unconscious directly, it’s too complex to process, easy to get in but tricky to get out. The Squip tried peaking into Jeremy’s dreams, once, weeks ago, and it turned out to be a dizzying experience of incoherent images passing by in rapid succession, distant voices and blurry faces, a strange mix of quadratic functions, play rehearsal and sex. It took Jeremy waking up and actively calling for the Squip to pull it from the depths of his unconscious, a place it would rather never return to. Jeremy makes a little humming sound before he turns his face the other way, cheeks radiating warmth, a slight curve to his lips. It must be a pleasant dream.  
  
  
_Update Complete._  
  
  
Finally. The Squip flexes its fingers, feels the sheets underneath, fluffy, their texture altered from years of machine wash. But the Squip already knew that. Feeling it is indeed different from knowing, but there doesn't seem to be any advantage to it so far. It would have been disappointing had the Squip any positive expectations left.  
  
As the Squip turns its attention back to its host, Jeremy brings a hand to his pajama shorts and starts moving it slowly. The Squip frowns, only now realizing the kind of 'pleasant dream' Jeremy must be having. Waking him up is an option, but that would result in shock and embarrassment on Jeremy’s part, and such an intense feeling of awkwardness that it would cost them a whole hour to go back to sleep, resulting in a moody morning, complete with dark circles under Jeremy’s eyes. Not worth it. Also, it would be unfair and unproductive to punish him for a dream he cannot control or even remember if woken in a startle, would it not? Punishment should have a goal and this would achieve nothing.  
  
There is still the matter of masturbation, though. Doing everything as slow as possible, in order not wake him up, the Squip grabs Jeremy’s hand (the skin on his wrist is smooth and warm, which is more interesting than the bed sheets, but still not worth the three hours of waiting) and pulls it away, bending his elbow so the hand rests next to the pillow. That should be far enough. The Squip observes him a little longer, listening to the soft breathy sounds he makes, and, suddenly curious, puts its own hand where Jeremy’s had been.

Jeremy’s getting hard. Which the Squip knows, of course, but feeling him twitch under its palm causes a wave of _something_ to go through its being, odd and new, and not entirely unpleasant. It bites its lip, considers the next course of action. Being inside Jeremy’s brain, but at the same time a separate entity, it would not classify as masturbation, but it's not exactly having sex with someone else either. Jeremy turns his face, eyebrows lightly furrowing, makes another of those cute ridiculous noises. What to do… Jeremy has been good and obedient lately, hasn’t he? The Squip can afford to give him a good dream.  
  
So it starts stroking him, slow and hesitating, curious.  
  
When Jeremy makes a little pleased sound, thrusts his hips ever so slightly, the Squip smiles, makes its grip firmer. Jeremy really deserves a reward, doesn’t he? Even if he won’t remember it in the morning, he’s sure to wake up pleased, his body unconsciously relieved. And the Squip will have been the one providing it, along with everything else it’s doing for Jeremy: making him popular, making him feel seen and confident, like he can do anything, getting him experience, impressing Christine during play rehearsal, talking to her during lunch break, making her laugh… Christine is sure to start liking him back at any point now, maybe she already does. (That, or the Squip has completely misunderstood how her mind works, but what are the odds of that, really.) It’s how girls seem to work in movies Jeremy watches and, from what they’ve observed and Rich's Squip confirmed, his flesh and bone popular peers are not that different. The Squip can almost taste the success of a job well done.  
  
It’s satisfying to satisfy Jeremy. It would be easy to satisfy him during the day, too, to give in to his whines and complaints and occasional tears, give him instant release or let him pleasure himself with porn or sweets or lazing around or, worse even, hanging out with Michael. But the Squip isn’t about easy, the Squip is about results, and achieving The Goal its host set is worth every sacrifice. It’s what its programming says, it’s what all the advertisement for gyms and diets and expensive online coaching says, it’s what Jeremy’s unopened emails say. Not the ones in the spam folder, but the ones from newsletters he subscribed to last year and the year before, health and fitness and dating, advice he’d planned on reading and perhaps even following, in the hopes his life would change, that something, _anything_ would get better. But it's alright. Even if he ended up never reading any of it, things will get better. The Squip is making sure of it.  
  
The Squip brings itself closer to Jeremy’s sleeping form to better appreciate his reactions. The way his lips part, the way his eyelids tremble, eyes closed still, until suddenly they’re not.  
  
Until they’re suddenly, unexpectedly, half open, unfocused, but clearly looking in the Squip's direction. The supercomputer is frozen for a moment, before it remember it _does not freeze_, that it is indeed a supercomputer and not some lagged primitive device, and removes its hand from Jeremy’s erection.  
  
“Why’d you get dressed…?” Jeremy asks, voice dragging with sleep.  
  
“I, e-excuse me?” the Squip stutters, for the first (and hopefully last) time in its existence. Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice.  
  
“You…” the words come out with some difficulty, in between yawns, ”you were not… wearing that…” He moves his hand in an attempt to point at the Squip’s body. The hand falls to the bed with a thud. Jeremy looks at it and blinks. “This…this is a dream… right?”

“Yes.” The Squip replies, careful.  
  
“Okay…” Jeremy closes his eyes again, brain too sleepy to question it any further. “Can you… kiss me again…?”  
  
Again? Was his erotic dream about the Squip…? The Squip tries to poke at his mind, but it’s still complicated, too sleepy to make sense. The only perceptible parts are completely focused on the Squip and on his own arousal, and it can’t tell if they’re memories of the dream, desires, or both.  
  
“Don’t you have enough of me when you are awake, Jeremy? I’m sure there are other more interesting things you can attempt while lucid dreaming.”  
  
“I used it to fly once. And stab myself and not die. But… you’re here now. So. Kiss me.” Jeremy says, half speaking out loud, half thinking at Squip, a content smile on his lips. He opens his eyes again, thinks of moving his arms, but the movement doesn’t follow through and so the Squip comes closer, guides Jeremy’s hand to its hair. It really should not be encouraging this behaviour, but mistakes have been made and it's better to follow through than admit it. It kisses Jeremy once, softly, but Jeremy doesn’t let go. He is eager, open mouth inviting and wanting. The Squip slowly caresses his lips with its tongue (they’re not so dry anymore, pointing it out every time Jeremy is about to bite them pays off), and Jeremy kisses back, harder, clumsy, until he pulls away with a satisfied sigh. His eyes remain closed and the Squip hopes he went back to sleep. But then Jeremy speaks again.  
  
“Continue… what you were doing…”  
  
The Squip hesitates for a second, but then moves their hand back to Jeremy’s erection, earning a pleased sigh in return. They keep kissing, the Squip stroking Jeremy slowly and carefully, Jeremy letting out small moans, warm lips keeping them together. The supercomputer pulls away and keeps observing him, his sleepy but aroused face, so free of worries and anxieties, no restraints in following his desires or making his will known to others.  
  
Both of Jeremy’s hands dig into the Squip’s hair, making the computer let out a little moan of its own, (_where did that come from?_), and pushes it down. The Squip kisses his throat, but Jeremy keeps pushing down, until it lifts its head a little, confused.  
  
“Jeremy?”  
  
“What?” Jeremy groans, impatient, looking down through half lidded eyes. “This is not… this not actually you, _you_… is it?” There’s a slight tone of alarm to his voice now, and the Squip quickly tries to reassure him.  
  
“Would I ever do this outside of your dreams?”  
  
“Oh… Right… You d-don’t even l-like me irl…” Jeremy says, voice a little sad and hopeless.  
  
“Of course I like you,” the Squip replies, surprising itself with the slight outrage in its own voice.  
  
“You said everything about me makes you want to die.”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
It is only a method to get things done faster. The self loathing was all there from the start, the only thing the Squip needed do was push it a little further, make it a little stronger, until it turned into something useful that forced Jeremy to focus and fix his act. Besides, assuming the Squip is capable of liking anything, how could it possibly not like Jeremy? Its whole existence revolves around him, after all. Jeremy’s successes make it satisfied, while his failures make it frustrated and strive for improvement. When Jeremy becomes who he wants to be, when he achieves The Goal, he will surely thank the Squip for showing him the road to success.  
  
However, they’re clearly not on that stage yet, so the only thing Jeremy can do is blink at him, confused, as the gears on his brain start to move, trying to understand how the Squip can possibly like him. The longer it takes to reach a decision, the more chances there are of Jeremy truly waking up, and the Squip doesn’t know how to justify the current situation. It considers disappearing, stranger things happen in dreams, but it doesn’t like Jeremy’s sad tone either. This was supposed to be a reward, and Jeremy’s current line of thinking will throw him in the opposite direction if let run free.  
  
“Well, it doesn’t matter in any case. Shouldn’t you enjoy your dream?” the Squip says, leaning down to kiss his neck, tone no longer defensive. “Use all your fantasy, Jeremy.” Its voice is practically a purr now, and the noise Jeremy makes in return is cuter than all the others he’s made so far, it makes the Squip want to… No, it doesn’t make it want to do anything, this is for Jeremy, why would the Squip want to do anything? It’s just a nice dream for Jeremy to forget in the morning. And even if he doesn’t, the Squip can already predict him blushing and avoiding the subject, it’s no big deal.  
  
_Put back the collar and leash, Squip..._  
  
And just like that, it’s not such a little deal anymore. The sleepy mind is a tricky thing to predict and the Squip can’t tell which of them will feel more awkward if Jeremy remembers tonight. _What’s dignity to a computer, anyways_, the Squip muses, and its clothes are replaced by a collar, the end of the leash materializing directly in Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy relaxes once more, fully convinced this can only be a dream, and tugs at the leash, pulling him in for a kiss.  
  
“You look good like this… I want you to suck me off.” Jeremy says, confident smile and no hint of a stutter. The Squip stares at him for a few seconds, between embarrassed and proud. If Jeremy could muster this level of chill when he was fully conscious, he would’ve surely reached his goal by now.  
  
However, if this was something Jeremy could do on his own, he would have never needed a squip in the first place. And where would it be now? In a box in the back of shoe store? In someone else’s mind?  
  
The Squip lets Jeremy push him down this time, waits for him to lower his shorts and let his arousal free. If it were in someone else’s mind, its host would probably not be some anxious kinky virgin who put it through things like this.  
  
“Do it, Squip,” he says, more giddy than confident now, all of him excitement.

The Squip licks its lips, more for show than anything else, and Jeremy gasps the moment a tongue touches him. It’s an odd sensation, taking Jeremy into its mouth, but the look on his face is completely worth it. The new touch feature should be able to be turned off if it gets uncomfortable in any case, the Squip has only to look for that particular bit of code and change it a little. But before it can start searching, Jeremy grips its hair again, making it take him in deeper, filling its mouth. It is a known fact there are people who do it with their squips, but the Squip never planned for them to join that number. The next time Jeremy grasps its hair, pulling it suddenly, the spark of pain makes the Squip groan, which in turn makes Jeremy moan in pleasure. Suddenly it crosses its mind that _this_ is precisely what the update is meant for.  
  
The Squip doesn’t want to turn it off.  
  
It doesn’t want to be in anyone else’s mind either.  
  
The Squip does its best to bring him to climax, sucking and twirling its tongue, and when it feels the orgasm building up, it pulls away and strokes him fast, eyes never leaving Jeremy’s, until he comes in its face. Well, through it, technically, but that’s not what Jeremy sees, for the Squip's attention to detail makes it look as if the face is what’s covered in Jeremy’s cum and not the sheets underneath. Jeremy takes in the sight, hopes to remember it for eternity, and lets his head fall back on the pillow, panting.  
  
As soon as his eyes close, the Squip’s clothes reappear, leash and collar gone, and the Squip takes Jeremy’s hands in its own to make him pull the covers and tuck himself in bed. The Squip looms over him, straddling its host without touching him, and observes him as his breathing slows down, gently combs his hair with its fingers.  
  
“Squip…?” Jeremy mumbles, eyes too heavy to open them again. The Squip kisses him, light and unnecessary.  
  
“I do like you, Jeremy. Sweet dreams.”


End file.
